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Are We There Yet
Steelhaven - Command Deck [ The Steelhaven ] The command deck is sterile and businesslike. Monitors are dotted around showing various vistas, and the room is divided into various command pods, each semicircular and covered in controls. The ceiling is lined with strip-lighting to give the room a very bright, white look. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ External ship broadcasts for this room are ON Type +shiphelp for help ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Contents: Grimlock Rodimus Prime Obvious exits: South leads to Steelhaven - Laboratory. Patchwork has arrived. Rodimus Prime is sitting in the command chair of the Steelhaven, if 'sitting' is really the right word. Unlike the command chairs of most Autobot vessels, this one is made for someone a fair bit larger than Rodimus Prime. He's turned to the side, back propped against one arm, left leg up in the chair with him and being used as a desk, of sorts, for a datapad. The size discrepancy serves to make him look a bit more like Hot Rod, all in all. "Hnn. Us there yet?" Grimlock asks, tromping onto the bridge. "Me Grimlock hate boring long trips!" he announes to...nobody in particular. He grunts, and looks up at Rodimus. "Maybe me Grimlock need fly spaceship. Then us get there faster!" Rodimus Prime sighs and leans back against the arm of the chair. Really, Dinobots are pretty much interchangeable during long trips. Their primary purpose becomes asking, 'Us there yet?' "No, Grimlock, we're not there, and we're kind of limited on how fast we can go, anyway. The beacon's pretty weak. Go too fast, and we could lose track of it." Porsche 959 is in car mode again, because he continually finds new and interesting ways to get his sensors wrecked up. Right now, he can't see or hear anything, thanks to some surgery! Muzzle can still see and hear, though trying to convince Nightbeat to actually let him drive was a chore and a half. At least Autobot ships are set up for driving inside. Muzzle mutters, "Great, we're at the command deck, Nightbeat. Would you stop complaining about the resolution of my eyes?" Rodimus Prime glances down over the edge, frowning as Nightbeat rolls onto the bridge. "*Still* having problems with your sensors, 'Beat?" Patchwork is along for the ride, it seems, and comes in just after Nightbeat. Vaguely amused, the femme's fingers are splattered with a number of bright paint colours she wasn't quite able to get off. Hearing the tail end of Grimlock's comment, she smirks. "If you drive, Grim, the only place we'd get to faster is an accident." Grimlock hnns, and scratches at his helmet. "Hnn. Fiiiiiine." he says, and glances longingly at the controls- only to pause as Patchwork speaks up. "Hey! Me Grimlock am BEST PILOT EVER!" he notes, most indignantly. Porsche 959 can't hear what Rodimus Prime is saying or what Muzzle is saying, for that matter. Nightbeat just belatedly hears what Muzzle hears, over their binary bond, after Muzzle has processed it enough to think about it. So Muzzle does the replying, "Sir. I finally convinced this hunk of junk to get his car mode sensors fixed - they're not up to the standard of his robot mode. Doc says he has to keep them off for a day to adjust, though," like how people who get laser surgery on their eyes have to wear those dark glasses. Rodimus Prime frowns a moment as he looks down at Nightbeat. He considers asking whether Nightbeat should really even /be/ along for this mission, all things considered, but... if he wasn't allowed on, the doc would have taken him off duty, right? So instead he asks, "How long you do you got to keep them off?" Quirking an eyebrow, Patchwork merely grins at Grimlock, and offers a quiet, "Uh huh." in his direction before she shifts her focus down to Beat, and Muzzle. "I can check him out in the morning," she offers. Grimlock grunts at Patchwork, and then directs his attention at Nightbeat. "Hnn. Why not check him NOW? Us no have better things to do 'cuz SOMEBODY say stupid Spaceship have go stupid slow. Is stupid." Grimlock looks over at Rodimus again- truely, bored dinobots are a hazard. Porsche 959 is along because even if someone revoked his security clearances, he has enough backdoors in the system by now to get them back, no sweat. Muzzle just parks Nightbeat off to the side, exits the car, and leans against it casually - at least Nightbeat still has a sense of touch. He explains, "Oh, just a day - now would you, Miss Patchwork?" He shrugs when Grimlock asks why not just do it now. "I dunno. Do I look like a doc to you?" Rodimus Prime looks coolly back at Grimlock, then shakes his head. "Grimlock, if we lose track of the beacon because we're 'speeding,' we'll end up spending even *more* time trying to pick it up again." He snorts and looks back down at his datapad, muttering, "At least that's what the sensor operator insists." Sounds like Grimlock may not be the only one who's been complaining about speed on this trip. Patchwork sighs. "Because checking -now- could be detrimental, Grim." Patchwork mutters quietly before she flashes a look to Rodimus, and grins faintly. "We -all- want to get them back...slow and steady may be best." Grimlock grumblegrumbles, and glares out at the viewscreen, watching the stars go by at a decidedly unimpressive pace. "Hnnn." he grunts, tapping his fingers on his bicep. "When we get theres, me Grimlock want smash stuff! N' maybe use big orbital laser-" a pause, and Grim looks back at the other 'bots on the bridge. "This thing have big laser thingie?" "Plasma Turret," Rodimus answers Grimlock without even looking up from his datapad. "Decent punch, but not near what, say, the Orion Pax or, heck, even Galvatron on his own can deliver." He looks up Porsche 959 is disappointed, when he finally gets from Muzzle that Patchwork says checking now could be detrimental. He wouldn't mind being checked now! Having to rely on Muzzle's relay over the binary bond is annoying! Muzzle says quietly, "I think Galen's been a good influence on Fortress Maximus." Muzzle is Nebulan. Of course he would think that. Patchwork shakes her head slightly. "maybe smashing stuff isn't the best solution...it didn't work so well last time," offers the medic, as close to a pacifist as most any could claim to be among the Autobots. "Hnn. That it? That dumb. Us need put more lasers on spaceship!" Grimlock demands...and with that, he heads over to an empty computer station (well, it empties out pretty quick once the gumby sees Grim coming) and starts punching in commands...a quick holographic blueprint of the Steelhaven pops up- and then Grim starts using a holo-pen to start scribbling notes all over it. Mostly arrows, crude drawings, and the note: PUT GUN HEER. Grimlock adds on. "You techy lady pay 'tention! Me Grimlock am SCIENCING." Rodimus Prime watches as Grimlock starts making notes, grins, and shakes his head. "You, uhm, do realize that you'll have to run this past Fort Max. The Autobots did 'repossess' his ship, but since he's in charge of Operations, that puts him in charge of all the ships, anyway." Muzzle squints up at Grimlock's work. "O... kay." That's really all he has to say about that. "Who, me?" Patchwork seems genuinely confused by Grimlock's sudden bout of 'sciencing', and why he might possibly think she'd have any interest in his attempts to laser-fy the ship. "Uh-huh..." Grimlock 's optic ridge widens a little at Rodimus's words- the closest he shows to surprise in this mode. "Whut? Him Maximus am in charge of ALL SPACESHIPS? That stupids! How me Grimlock s'posed to get to other planets and punch stuffs if him Maximus in charge? Him be all like 'nyah nyah you no can do thats cuz you Grimlock am too great.' Rodimus Prime sighs and looks at the room's overhead. He shakes his head and looks back down at Grimlock. "Grimlock, it's been like this for MONTHS. Has that gotten in the way of you going to other planets before now?" Grimlock pauses. "Hnnn. Him Maximus too scared of me Grimlock?" "Nooooooo, Grimlock," Rodimus sighs, jabbing a finger at the datapad. "It's because he knows that his job includes making sure we have ships so we can go other places and punch things. Preferably Decepticons." Arcee has arrived. Grimlock ohs. "...so...that mean it okay us put more lasers on him spaceship, right?" and Grimlock turns back to the holo-display, scribbling upon it with the sort of handwriting usually reserved for first-graders. He even adds a: 'GUN THAT SHOOT SWORDS' to the design. "Once me Grimlock done, this be BEST SPACESHIP EVAR." Porsche 959 is parked off to the side, since his recent surgery has him feeling a bit gimpy. Muzzle gives the Porsche a cautious pat and wander off to climb up onto a sensor console and look at how tracking the beacon is going, while Grimlock does something out of 'How to Kill a Mockingbird'. "It's very thoughtful of you to want to improve our spaceships, Grimlock," offers Arcee, coming in late and immediately comprehending the situation as it's one that she's all too familiar with. "But maybe Fortress Maximus is happy with his spaceship how it is? It hasn't crashed or blown up in quite a while now." Rodimus Prime looks up at the hologram blueprints that Grimlock is working on. He is currently seated sideways in a command chair that's quite a bit too big for him, being as it was made for Fortress Maximus. His left leg is propped over one of the chair's arms, and he's using it as a 'desk' for his datapad, while he's leaning against the other arm. He chuckles at the design suggestions, and suggests, "Why don't you forward it along, Grimlock." So Fort Max can ignore it at his leisure. Patchwork snickers quietly at Grimlock's various designs, but is wise enough not to comment on the various ideas. Drifting over to the Porsche, she crouches, reaching a hand out to lightly pat Night's hood. "It's almost over, the time for your sensors to be off. It's not so bad.." "Yeah, but me Grimlock am smarter than him Maximus!" Grimlock says- he takes a step back to survey his 'handiwork'- at which point the initial holo-blueprint of the Steelhaven is barely visible underneath Grimlock's amateurish scribblings- complete with little dotted lines that lead to spiky little explosions and stuff. "Be that as it may, Grimlock," Rodimus sighs, looking back down at his datapad, "he's the one who'll have to give the orders to get the building done." Boring. Boring. Boring. Boring. He looks up and looks around, checking to see if anyone else is watching that close... oh, and Nightbeat's sensors aren't working? Then he pulls up a muted puzzle game. Porsche 959 is usually pretty standoffish, and Patchwork's pat comes as a surprise. Muzzle turns around in a hurry, where he was sitting on top of the sensor console, and he takes a moment to check and make sure that Patchwork isn't doing anything threatening. Given that she isn't, he just ends up looking embarassed. Muzzle mutters, "Sorry," and goes back to the excitement that is Beacon Watch: 2031. "If you get your own spaceship I think that would be a wonderful design for it," Arcee points out to Grimlock helpfully, patting him on the arm before she goes over to see Nightbeat. "What happened to Nightbeat?" she asks Muzzle, since he seems to be the active one at the moment. "OOOH! That am even BETTER idea! Thanks Arcee!" Grimlock says, and turns about to tromp over towards Rodimus. "Us need build NEW spaceship! Me Grimlock could fly 'round n' stuffs! Us call it, uh...'Grimlock's spaceship am so great.' Or something. Me already make design!" "It's okay," Patchwork assures Muzzle with a smile before she straightens and turns around to Grimlock, tilting her head to the side. "But you missed something, Grimlock...you didn't give your space ship any boxing gloves on mechanically punching fists...!" Sure, Grimlock," Rodimus answers tiredly, still not looking up from his video game paperwork. "But since we're strapped for materials, what with the recent Wrecker base, the drain on resources that staying and Mexico was, and everything else, you'll have to get them yourself. Organize a few raids against the Decepticons, run some scrap-gathering missions in the Dyson Ring, that sort of thing." Grimlock ohs. "Hn. Right." he grunts. "Maybe me Grimlock just steal septi-con spaceship. That always good idea." he nods- and then looks out at Patchwork. "Hnn, no need GLOVE. That just padding! 'sides, if stuff need punched, me Grimlock can go in space and punch stuff! Me good at that." Muzzle, from his perch, explains to Arcee, "Oh, I noticed that old rustbucket's sensors as a car ain't so great, so I had him get that lil' issue fixed. He's gotta leave his optics and audios off until tomorrow to adjust. Doc's orders. So now he just glitches about the bad resolution of my eyes. Hmmph." Arcee strokes her cheek with a pensive finger, thinking about that. "So... you can see through eachothers' eyes? That's remarkable! How does it work, radio?" She sounds a little taken aback, but is clearly trying not to be judgemental. "Stealing a Decepticon ship would be fine, too," Rodimus answers Grimlock, working furiously at his 'reports'. "Just make sure you let us know who's on it before someone shoots it by mistake." Muzzle has to taken a moment to think or rather, to let Nightbeat do the thinking for him - Nightbeat, as the nigh-immortal space robot with the wifi connection to the datasphere, is a heck of a lot better with technical issues than fleshy Nebulan Muzzle is. He finally reports, "Quantum entanglement. The spooky transmission of data via binary bonded latent engrams. Radio wouldn't work so hot - I'm part of his neural net, and you don't want your neural net jammed." Combat: Arcee compares her Technical to 80: Failure :( Grimlock grunts a bit. "Hn! Me Grimlock gonna go do planning stuffs!" he announces to nobody in particular. "Tell me Grimlock when it time for us be on planet!" and with his tromping of feet, off he goes! Arcee looks sweetly blank. "...wow. Those Nebulans... I mean, you Nebulans, sure knew their stuff!" "Oh, yeah, shooting our own would be bad." Patchwork agrees from where she is, not entirely participating ain any one of the conversations that are going on though she listens to as much of each of them as she can. Muzzle snorts, "Arcana knew his stuff. I was just a cop, ma'am." But that is a very long story that involves losing his job because his car hit on the wrong politician's daughter. He walks on the grossly oversized buttons of the sensor console to activate them, dialing in some filtering parameters to try to get a cleaner read. "See you 'round, Grimlock," Rodimus answers without looking up. After Grimlock leaves he sighs and leans back, pushing himself back over the arm of the command chair. He looks a bit like a kid in an oversized seat right now. Finally, he spins himself around so that his legs are hanging off the front end and asks the current pilot, "So do we have *any* kind of a distance estimate yet?" "No, sir," the pilot answers without looking up. Rodimus sighs. Arcee leans over Muzzle to have a look at the readouts of the console he's operating with his feet. "It sounds like Nightbeat's not going to be in a state to help out if we do find wherever the kidnapper's hiding, though." From Outside: Sky Lynx has arrived. From Outside: Sky Lynx arrives from Autobot Heavy Cruiser . "I suppose he can still run something over?" Rodimus suggests to Arcee, although really, he'd had the same reservations. "I don't think that's the best idea...likely cause more damage, maybe something permanant." Patchwork pipes up as she looks to Rodimus, then Arcee. "Really." From Outside: Far behind the aft of the Steelhaven appears a warp fold of which a large white Terran space shuttle emerges from. As the oversized space vessel clears throught he entirity of the vortex its external appearance rapidly reconfigures itself, expanding larger in size until the familiar form of Sky Lynx appears. The massive Autobot cruises towards the Steelhaven, eventually matching speeds with the Autobot heavy cruiser. Porsche 959 is assailed from all sides! He protests, belatedly, his voice sounding off, since he doesn't have his usual auditory feedback, "Hey! I can /totally/ run into things!" Muzzle observes dryly, "Did that just this morning. How do you think the wall feels? About as good as your fender, eh?" Sky Lynx says, "It seems you've all learned a lesson and decided to bring a bigger spacecraft along, eh? Well now, I shall be requesting permission to board the cruiser." From Outside: From inside the Steelhaven, Rodimus slips out of the too-large command chair, deactivating his datapad. "If Patchwork says 'no,' you're staying put, Nightbeat. She's the doc." He walks over towards the sensor station, peering down over Muzzle's shoulder. "Hey, is that Sky Lynx coming up alongside us?" Rodimus Prime says, "Granted, Sky Lynx. Welcome aboard!" From Outside: Sky Lynx reduces speed and begins to lag behind the Autobot heavy cruiser until the aft of the vessel is in view. With a gentle application of thrust, the massive Autobot glides in through the open boarding hatch. From Outside: Sky Lynx has left. Sky Lynx has arrived. Rodimus Prime is still standing over the sensor station. Largely, however, he's mostly making a nuisance of himself, as he impatiently waits for the ship to get to where it needs to be in order to rescue those who need to be rescued. Porsche 959 is parked off to the side, sulking because he can't go be a big damn hero while medically incapacitated. Meanwhile, Muzzle is climbing on a sensor console, trying to get it to output cleaner data. Sky Lynx emerges through from the corridors to the south. The Autobot lieutenant commander had been absent for the majority of the week ever since the previous expedition embarked by the Autobots to locate their abducted comrades and it seems that the cause just might be the result of him having a trio of engines replaced, as the older model of engines mounted on his rear end would suggest. Hey, isn't that the engines had been using a few decades ago?! "I do apologize for my belated absence. It seems our supply shortages is becoming a greater source of headache. There wasn't enough new materials to fabricate a replacement engine, and -certain- medics had decided to restrict me to the medical bays until an older model could be found as a temporary replacement." Arcee is helping Muzzle with the sensor console which is far too big for him, by working one of the other keyboards on the console in support of his calculations. "At any rate it's nice to see you out and about, Sky Lynx." Rodimus Prime turns towards the room's entrance and gives a brief nod as Sky Lynx enters. "Not a problem." He smirks and leans back against the edge of the console. "Grimlock was just asking about building a new ship, and I had to remind him that supplies were tight. I told him he could do it as long as he made sure to track down the materials." Muzzle appreciates Arcee's help, but he'll never admit it, especially not to a dame. He says at last, "Best tracking fix I can get is 'somewhere near Eridani'." Sky Lynx cranes his neck down to look at Arcee, a smile forms across his cone shaped face, "Likewise, Arcee. It's good to see more experienced faces out here on the frontlines. We'll certainly get our missing subordinates back soon, especially with the likes of us on the task, no less." The Autobot lieutenant commander glances over at Nightbeat, raises an optical ridge with a look of concern on his face but remains silent. Soon he turns over to see Rodimus Prime, "Hmm... yes, I had known that constructing Debris had stretched a lot of our resources, but I've only come to witness to magnitude of the problem when sci-tech can't even fashion basic replacement parts." Sky Lynx shakes his head for a bit, frustrated and a bit disappointed at the current state of things but soon resolves to offer a solution, "Once we're done with the rescue of our subordinates, I do plan to launch an extensive effort to get ourselves properly resupplied." Rodimus Prime nods, and grins. "Good thinking, Sky Lynx." He pauses and looks up at the overhead, considering. "The problem is, we don't have much to offer in trade, so our best bets are usually salvage, mining or building the stuff ourselves, or, well... taking it from the Decepticons. The biggest problem Arcee nods soberly. "Otherwise we'd just be trafficking in stolen goods, really. From the humans, most of the time!" "Right," Rodimus agrees with Arcee. "And that's... no good." He starts to pace, working this over in his mind, the pauses and rubs his chin. "Well, I suppose there's always Charr..." he points out. Muzzle points out, "We could raid their Dyson Ring. Ain't like the original owners are liable to ask for it back. But hmm... Eridani... which part of Eridani..." Tap tap tap. Sky Lynx nods his head grimly in agreement with Rodimus Prime and Arcee, "Quite so..." You can almost see a glint coming from the golden optic bands on Sky Lynx's avian-like face as he goes deep into thought for but a brief moment, his mind calculating variables, before he comments, "...it's also questionable whether or not the effort of raiding a Decepticon supply outpost would yield more supplies than what we'd expend to confiscate it." A look of frustration creeps into Sky Lynx's facial expression. "Speaking of supplies and materials. There's a bloody Decepticon construction going on down in Mexico and we know next to nothing about it so far. This alien has definitely disrupted our operations extensively. We definitely have a lot of work to do once this bloody mess is over and done with." Rodimus Prime stops his pacing long enough to look over Muzzle's (and possible Arcee's) shoulder at the sensor station. "So we've almost got it?" he asks, then grins. "Great! But yeah, I've been thinking about the Dyson Ring. I want to check those world-continents in that huge ocean section. I'm thinking they might have resources in the same spots that the planets they're based on do." He then straightens and turns back towards Sky Lynx. "Seems to be some sort of canal, from what I could tell. Not that, uhm, I got to see much before I was noticed, I'm afraid." "That'd be..." Arcee thinks about this for a moment. "They're 1:1 scale, yes? Surveying them for metal ore and digging it out and so on would be just as difficult as it is on Earth, only much farther away. Couldn't we buy the materials we need from our human friends? There must be some way we can make money." Porsche 959 suggests, his voice still out phase, "Why, you an' the girls wanna do a calendar to raise funds?" The leer in his voice is almost palpable. Muzzle, however, stays on track, and reports, "We have the general /region/, sir. Trying to nail it down a bit more." "Well, we do have to keep an eye on the area, anyway," Rodimus points out. "It looks like the Decepticons may have already been using it for resources. Besides that, one difference between what might be there and what's on Earth is that if they've been copied to the degree that they seem to have, is that the Dyson Ring doesn't seem to have been tapped. I'm all for suggestions on how to make money, though." And then Nightbeat speaks up, and Rodimus narrows his optics. "Except that one," he adds flatly. He'll let Arcee deal with him, though. That's a worse punishment, anyway. Arcee scowls in Nightbeat's direction, but remembers he's not feeling well. Not that that's out of character for the Bad Lieutenant or anything. "I was THINKING," she says pointedly to Rodimus, "that we could offer our expertise. We may not be able to just dig things up on Earth since the humans own every part of the planet, but we're so much bigger and stronger than they are, and we're very good builders. I'm sure there are humans who would love to have us help them build their own engineering projects, and be willing to help us in exchange." "Well, we already do that from time to time," Rodimus points out, "though as often as not, it's just to rebuild something that got destroyed while we were fighting Decepticons, or for charity. Which, while all well and good, doesn't pay the bills. And really, when it comes right down to it, if our need is bad enough, the EDC usually comes through for us, but... well, I'd like to see us try to be /less/ of a drain on Earth's resources." Autobots, interplanetary freeloaders. What, no restraining order? No slap? Arcee's letting Nightbeat off easy! Nightbeat observes, with continued distortion and delay, "Yeah, I'm sure there are a lotta two bit dictators who would love a Cybertronian-built missile silo. Think Russia wants our help upgrading Dead Hand? Eh?" Muzzle desperately pretends that he does not know Nightbeat, hunching down to examine some staticky plots. Rodimus Prime covers his face with his right hand. "That's horrible, Nightbeat," Arcee chides sternly. "We must do our best to leave Earth better than we found it." She thinks about this a moment. "Apart from what the humans do to it, I suppose." Sky Lynx looks down at Nightbeat, crooks an optic groove before looks back over to Rodimus Prime and Arcee, "I say... I take it that something's glitched out in Nightbeat?" "He's got his sensors turned off to adapt to new ones getting installed," Rodimus explains, looking up at Sky Lynx. "Also, he's a jerk, but that's normal for him." Porsche 959 is horrible, baby. There's a burst of static from him as he prepares to protest the jerk comment... and then thinks better of it. It's pretty accurate, actually. Touche Prime, touche. Muzzle comments, "I'm not sure why the humans haven't forced the lot of you to just get out yet." That's what his people did! Rodimus Prime sighs at Muzzle's comment, looking once more at the overhead, then turns to Arcee. "Right. So. Keeping non-Earth sources of materials in mind might not be a bad idea." "The Decepticons, maybe," Arcee suggests firmly to Nightbeat. "Which reminds me, someone should go make sure the landing craft are fuelled!" She goes off to do so. Arcee has disconnected. Rodimus Prime has left. Sky Lynx has left.